“Wait!” Thessa’s eyes fell to Pari’s hand. It was still wrapped up with a proper splint, the skin red and swollen. The nails of her pinkies, Thessa noted once more, were not painted with a client’s color. Thessa’s heart continued to pound but she no longer felt fear. She was safe, and would continue to be so as long as she remained cautious. “You won’t let me repay you? You just killed a man for me.”
“I grew up in the Slag, my little jailbird. I’ve done worse for less.” She lifted her injured hand. “If you want to pay me back, give me enough money for a day in a healinghouse. Nobody will pissing hire me while I’m like this.”
“I’ll do more than that,” Thessa said on an impulse. It was a wild, perhaps reckless thing to do, but she needed people she could trust. She didn’t actually know any of the Grappo staff. She didn’t know Pari either, but a woman who would kill for her kindness could be useful.
“What do you mean?” Pari asked.
“Hold out your hands.” Pari did as she was told, clearly taken aback. Her hands were steady and, despite the injury, callused and strong. Thessa asked, “How long have you worked in glassworks?”
“Since I was old enough to cart firewood, I suppose.”
“Have you ever been an assistant?”
“Me?” Pari snorted. “Like I said, I’m from the Slag. Nobody from the Slag ever makes anything of themselves.”
“Then be the first,” Thessa said. She didn’t have time for this. Now that the danger was past, she needed to get back to the hotel with that book. She needed to finish her designs. “You want to make something of yourself? Come work for me. I need an assistant. Someone I can trust, who can keep their mouth shut and work hard.”
“I can do that,” Pari said hesitantly. “But I don’t have any experience.”
“Piss on that. I can train an intelligent person to be an assistant in a few hours. Do you want the job or not?”
“I suppose I do.”
“Good.” Thessa pulled out a wad of banknotes and peeled off several of them. “I don’t have time to waste. Take yourself to a healinghouse, then meet me at the Hyacinth Hotel. I’ll have errands for you as soon as you are able.”
Pari took the money, looking both intrigued and uncomfortable, and Thessa knew for a certainty that she wouldn’t betray her. “I’ll be there tomorrow,” Pari promised, and got out of the carriage.
Thessa didn’t even bother to watch her go. “Back to the hotel!” she shouted at the driver, then flipped open the book on lightning rods and, careful of the jostling of the carriage, began to sketch.
38
The Ironhorns left Fort Bryce on just a couple of hours of rest – bleary-eyed, exhausted, some of them still with half-healed wounds and a piece of cureglass at their ears. They marched directly south, trailing in the wake of the two battalions of fresh cuirassiers that Demir brought with him from Ossa. The march was brutally fast, double-time down the narrow roads winding through sharp landscape just north of the Tien River. Visibility here was practically nothing, the dark forests of the old imperial hunting grounds now divvied up between the guild-families and used for the same. The forest was broken only by the occasional vineyard stretching across a gentle hillside. Massive estates lurked in the winter gloom if you knew where to look.
At some signal that Idrian was not told, the cuirassiers turned right at a fork in the road, splitting off to head west into what could now be considered enemy territory. Idrian paused at the fork long enough to drink watered wine from the canteen at his belt and watch the last of the cavalry disappear. His hair was soaked with sweat, his uniform dirty, his armor, sword, and shield packed on the mules with Braileer some fifty yards back. It was getting dark, and he fiddled with the sightglass in his pocket, wondering if Demir had some kind of night raid in mind.
“I’m going to miss them,” Mika said, stopping beside him. “There’s something reassuring about having a thousand heavy cavalry in front of you.”
Idrian could only grunt his agreement. His mental faculties were beginning to crumble without enough rest. For the last mile he’d heard the constant laugh of a child from somewhere in the woods. He knew it wasn’t real, but it still made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.
“Do you have any idea what Demir is up to?” Mika asked. “We’ve got enough powder in those wagons back there to blow up a whole fort.” She paused briefly, her eyes widening. “Shit, he’s not going to have us blow up Fort Alameda, is he?”
“Why the piss would he do that?”
“I don’t know! To keep Kerite from capturing it?”
Idrian fixed her with a look that he hoped told her just how stupid that was. “Really?”
“Oh, come on. Everyone is whispering about Holikan. Everyone is…” Mika paused, glanced around to make sure none of the passing soldiers seemed to be listening in, and continued in a hushed tone, “Everyone is talking about how crazy he is. He told Tadeas he was going to go on the offensive with just those cuirassiers and us.”
“I know,” Idrian said. Tadeas had been tight-lipped about the actual plan, which meant that it was probably a bit crazy, and that Idrian himself wasn’t an integral part of it. “Speaking of which…” He nodded back down the column, where he could see Demir and Tadeas coming toward them on horseback. The two reined in beside Idrian and Mika, and Demir stood up in his stirrups and called out to the passing column.
“We’ll make camp just up ahead! We have double rations for everyone tonight – no beer, but triple on the meat. Wine will be on me after the attack!”
Hundreds of sets of tired eyes looked back at Demir. There were no cheers, even at the mention of a triple meat ration, and Idrian cringed inwardly. He could hear nearby engineers whispering to each other about what exactly Demir meant by “attack.” He could see in their eyes that they were wondering if Demir was going to get them killed first thing in the morning. If Demir noticed, he gave no sign, swinging down from his horse and leading it over to Idrian.
“Tad,” he called over his shoulder, “set a triple guard in case Kerite gets wind of our presence, but the glassdancers should provide us with a screen against her scouts. Everyone else needs to get some rest – they’ve earned it. No singing tonight in camp. Keep the noise to a minimum. Mika, can I talk to you for a minute?”
Demir handed the reins of his horse off to one of Valient’s infantrymen and came and threw his arm around Mika’s shoulders. She gave Idrian a wide-eyed glance as she was led away, Demir whispering in her ear, and Idrian turned to Tadeas.
“You going to tell me what the piss is going on?” he asked.
Tadeas snorted. “Demir will when he’s good and ready. Just gotta trust him.”
“What’s this about a double march and then us just making camp? I thought we were hurrying down here to do something.” Idrian could hear the irritation in his own tone. The exhaustion was getting to him too, despite the forgeglass in his ear. He clenched his fists and half turned after Demir, but Demir and Mika had already disappeared around a bend in the road.
Tadeas slapped him on the shoulder. “Get to camp. I already gave orders to put up your tent first. Use some dazeglass if you need to, I want you to get some sleep. Demir says he needs you in your armor by ten o’clock.”
“So it’s a night attack, then?” Idrian asked. “Tad. Tad! Glassdamnit, don’t walk away from me.”
“Get some sleep!” Tadeas called over his shoulder as he hurried down the column. Idrian swore softly to himself and had no choice but to follow. Might as well do as he was told. Who knew what was coming up tonight?